Nothing Binds Fate
by chrysanne
Summary: ON HIATUS! The eyes of the woman opened abruptly, Legolas was pierced by them. They were crazed with pain; he was naked in their gaze. Her eyes pleaded with him for relief, for respite, for release, as she fell back, unconscious.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing that is recognizable to the Lord of the Rings franchise. The language used in this story is Sindarin, and is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien. This goes for all other chapters included in this story.

NOTE : This story has been reorganized and updated as of December 15, 2004.

* * *

Chapter 1  
  
She sat alone, in the bitter watches of the night. When all others shrank from the sick bed, cringing with fear and doubt, she alone gave courage and strength to the pale girl beneath the sheets. Through the fires of anger and rage they had passed together; as one they had stood against the pain their father beat into them. For years she had been strong, to keep her love alive, here, in the world of the living. For so long had they been in the shadow of a man without scruples, who would destroy them without punishment, as the police were in his back-pocket. In the end, their father's rage won out over his cunning, causing him to strike them brutally in a public place, where he was discovered, and they were taken away. 

It was already too late, she mused, her heart breaking as she looked at the small form of her younger sister; her breathing was slight, and obviously caused her pain. Tears in her eyes, her heart beat wildly with thoughts of revenge, its poison seeping into her blood and filling her mind. Swallowing back all the pain and rage and hate, she breathed in deeply, focusing on the little form on the bed.

The monitors beeped, the lights reflecting harshly off the nightgown her sister wore. Alone, she sat on the bed, and held the light of her life in her arms, praying desperately for her to live.

_One hour later..._

Movement caught her eye, and she rested her gaze on her sister's face. Slowly, the dark eyes she adored opened and squinted against the brightness of the fluorescent lighting.

"Bria?' she whispered, closing her eyes again, breathing deeply and beginning to cough.

"I'm here, sweetheart, Bria's here. I won't ever let you go," she promised. Drawing the small pale hand to her cheek, she placed it against her own, comforted by its warmth.

"Bria, it hurts."

Tears coming again, she could only hold onto her sister's hand and pray.

"Bria," came the insistent voice. She took a deep breath, and looked into her baby sister's eyes.

Her red-gold curls were limp and fanned about her face, no longer matted with blood; her cuts and bruises were bandaged. She knew her own face was just as ugly, but all her pain and anger at her father melted in the light from her sister's eyes: they were as grey as storm clouds and held such misery, she wanted to weep.

"Oh, Meredith, I should have known!" she cried, burying her head in the tiny shoulder beneath her, "I should have known he would do something, something to hurt us. I'm so sorry, Meredith!"

"Bria," the little girl murmured, then she repeated impatiently, "Bria!"

She looked up, and smiled at the familiar expression on Meredith's face. Her sister could never wait.

"Bria, don't cry," her breath hitched, "Bria, it hurts to see you cry. I hurt outside, and it makes me hurt inside. Please don't cry. You know Daddy can't hurt us anymore; he can't hurt anybody."

Choking on a laugh, she answered, "Meredith, I couldn't give a rat's ass if that prick lives or dies; well, I wish he would die, but that won't be his sentence. I never cared that he hit me: I always worried about you. I don't want you to leave!"

This last had been said desperately, hysterics lightly touching her voice.

In a weak imitation of her third grade teacher, the little strawberry-blonde shook her finger at her older sister.

"Briana Lynne Morgan! Don' talk that way; I won't never leave you!"

Suddenly, her little body spasmed, and her hands clutched her heart. She looked at Briana and cried out. In a flash, nurses and a doctor rushed into the room, knocking her out of the way as they warmed up the paddles and zapped the little girl. Within a few seconds, a soft but steady heartbeat came on, and Briana took her place at Meredith's side. The little girl smiled weakly at her sister.

"Bria," she said faintly, "Is the angel right?"

Her heart caught in her throat, she asked, "What angel, sweetheart?"

"I fell asleep, and the angel came. She looked like the pictures you have of Mommy; she said it was time for me to come home. Is it time to go home?"

Breathing hard, her heart thudding painfully against her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut, and held her sister to her, rocking her small body.

"Yes," she replied, choking on tears, "Yes, sweetheart. It's time for you to go home with the angel. You go to sleep, baby girl, and when you see the angel, you make her take you to see Mommy. Accept no alternatives, _capiche_?"

Smiling as she hadn't done for years, Meredith looked up at her beloved sister, her eyes shining with pleasure and relief, and whispered,

"I love you."

The room darkened as the bright little girl's breath died away.

Briana buried her head once again in the flesh of her sister's shoulder, its warmth slowly cooling. Rocked by her loss and grief, she began to shake, not noticing the quiet disappearance of the hospital staff.

No more could she hold in the pain; all her years of building defenses had left her without an escape. All at once the fear, loss, and heartbreak came. She sobbed her sorrow and grief into that tiny shoulder, that beautiful, cold, lifeless shoulder that had held the heart of her sister, the light of her life. Now, once again, a loved one had left her, and she was alone.

* * *

Time passed her as she wept her grief and heartache. The sounds of the ward faded from her hearing as she sobbed bitter tears and rage at her aloneness in the world. Suddenly all the rage, the pain, the hurt, the bitterness and shame became too much. She pushed the little body from her; standing up, she began to pace the room, looking everywhere except the metal bed, the sterilized sheets, and the pale little body beneath them. 

Her thoughts were muddled and rambling; she began muttering to herself in a low voice that frightened the night-nurse. Alarmed, she ran to get her superior, a stern, motherly-type woman named Ellen.

"Come, here, dear," she crooned softly, "Come sit here with me, and have a good cry."

Ellen placed a wrinkled hand on Briana's arm gently.

Wrenching her body as if she had been burned, Briana looked up, madness in her eyes, and let out a horrible scream before she fled out of the room. Ellen called for security to stop her.

_/I have to get AWAY!/_

"Meredith, oh Meredith!"

_/I failed you! I failed you!/_

Her legs shook with awareness; her body surged with adrenaline.

_/She's gone, she's gone, she's gone! I can't stay, got to leave, got to get out, got to get AWAY! AWAY!/_

She pelted down the hallway, pummeling right on through the security guard who stepped in front of her. She ran so fast, she didn't even hear the sickening crack as his skull connected to the floor. Running, always running, she bolted from the hospital doors.

The rain surged from the skies and the clouds were black; uncaring, she ran without stopping. Barreling down the stone steps, she exploded onto the street, right into the path of a speeding Mack truck.

Light engulfed her from the gigantic headlights, and time slowed again as she stood dumbly in front of the oncoming grill, oddly feeling relief.

* * *

Something was strange, he could sense it. There was a presence in the Forest that was different; whether it was for good or ill, he couldn't say, yet it was there all the same. 

"Eönwë! Call for a scouting party."

"You feel it as well, my Lord?" asked the servant, already knowing the answer.

"Yes; I must speak with my father."

The fair Prince strode from the library, leaving the servant to do his bidding.

* * *

"Ah, Legolas, how fare you, my son?" asked the tall blond Elf, seated on the dais and wearing the coronet of the Woodland Realm. 

"There is a disturbance, Father. I have felt it, as have others. I wish to lead a scouting party to discover its whereabouts and purpose."

"Very well, my son; make use of the swifter horses, for if it be an injured party, they may require urgent care."

The equally tall and blond younger Elf bowed, and left to make the arrangements.

* * *

Fifteen Elves and their fastest horses were soon ready and waiting for their prince to make his appearance. They did not see him silently watching them from the shadows of his father's palace. 

_/Lómirion, Tinaril, Talith, Sil-Gandel_/ he mused, _/Legothiel, Fáralith, Taviel, Miolas, Nadrien, Haldith, the twins Rylindë and Urelindë, their brother Elenion, Isénduil and Thraldor./_

They were all strong, brave Elves, swift on horseback and on foot; all were of the best marksmanship among their kind. Of them all though, only the final six were close friends with the heroic Prince Legolas; only they saw the melancholy beneath his fair face and manners. So it was that they were the first to notice his gaze, and turn accordingly; the others soon followed.

Coming forward into the sunlight, his eyes were a distant blue, his gaze direct and piercing to those astride before him.

"You have all felt the strange presence in the forest," he said, his eyes somber, "With the favor of Thranduil, we are to discover its purpose: if it be a threat, we are to handle it, and return. That is all."

He swung himself up into his saddle.

"Arod, _noro lim!_"

* * *

A.N.: 

Translation:

_Noro lim _ride fast

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

They rode together for a league, and then branched off along the Forest River. All were in pairs, except for Legolas and the Elven twins, who searched the forest floor and canopy. Darkness was not far in coming when Rylindë's call could be heard, and Legolas heard her sister running along the branches as he hurried on foot.

Reaching the source of the call, he searched for his companions: the bright head of Urelindë was just in view in the tall trees. As he caught sight of her, he could see that she and her sister had their bows drawn, and were watching a dark heap marring the green foliage.

Cautiously, he inched forward, an arrow already notched, his mind alert to any sign of entrapment or foul play. As he moved slowly, he trusted the eyes and ears of his companions, and focused his attention on the heap. In fact, he could see dark cloth as the source of color; he also recognized the smell and sight of dried blood, dark with time and exposure.

Lightly, he kicked a booted foot at the bundle: no response. Placing his faith in Rylindë's aim and Urelindë's accuracy, he relaxed a hand from his bow, and bent over the ragged bundle. It was warm; inanimate objects did not seep blood, nor were they warm. Laying aside his bow, he placed his hands on either side of the heap and turned it over.

Quickly, he whistled for aid; in an instant, the twins were beside him.

"Hurry, bring the others," he told them, "There will be need for field- healing. Once we return to the palace, this will be addressed."

They nodded their acceptance, and without a look back, they disappeared into the trees, making for their mounts to sound the Meeting-call. Legolas looked back at the ground.

It was a woman; he had no idea of the color of her hair, it was soaked and matted with blood. There were cuts and bruises along her arms; there had obviously been an attempt at their healing, for there was a strange sort of bandage around them. He looked at her more closely: her clothes were different than any he had seen. She wore a peculiar set of trousers...it appeared she also wore a black tunic, with another, longer grayish one underneath. Both were ripped beyond repair, revealing pale skin beneath.

At least, he supposed it to be pale, if not for the dirt and an odd sort of substance that smeared it. The same substance was coated along her arms and legs. Peering closer, he saw the bandaged injuries were overshadowed by other slashes. These appeared deeper, more ugly than the others.

Unsure if she still breathed, he placed his ear against her lips: he felt a faint, ragged pull, and swiftly picked her up in his arms. Whistling his call to Arod, he noted she was light, too light for Man or Elf. Swinging himself onto his white Rohirrim horse, he gave him his head, trusting him to take him to the others, as he tightly held the motionless bundle of warmth.

* * *

The company rode in silence, not wishing to disturb their prince or awaken the dormant spirits of the restless trees; it was a silent party that entered past the Realm-gates and its sentries. 

Slipping off Arod's saddle, Legolas turned to his company.

"Friends," he spoke, cradling the limp woman in his arms, her blood staining his clothes, "Rest yourselves, and then place attendance to the King. I will call you when I have need of your reports."

Turning from them, he carried the dark form into the courtyard, striding swiftly down the darkened palace steps, and opened an empty room, laying her gently on the soft bed.

* * *

Unmindful of his stained tunic, he looked at her once more: her face was pale beneath the caked blood and dirt, as light and fair as starlight. He had a sudden urge to test its softness; so transfixed was he that his fingers were a breath away from her cheek before he checked himself, and turned his focus. Shaking away his reverie, he turned from her body and strode from the room, intent on finding a Healer.

* * *

All around her was light, bright and blinding. Its brilliance forced her eyes closed, yet even that gave no relief. She tried to cover her face with her hands, but couldn't move them. Memories returned as dark shadows, the light was dimmed, and she awoke. 

Lance-hot fire burned, causing her to shriek aloud in pain. There wasn't an inch of her flesh that wasn't crawling: it was driving her to madness!

Moaning in pain and fire, she thrashed in her bed, unmindful of cool hands on her body, fixed only on the agony of every breath.

* * *

"My Lord, my Lord! The woman is stirring violently; we cannot stop her!" came a desperate cry. 

His pace quickening, Legolas followed the servant to the sickroom, stopping still in surprise at the door.

The body of the woman was writhing beneath a blanket, its shape contorted and twisted. He could see at least three strong Healers in her room, yet none could force her to lie still. Low moans and high-pitched shrieks came from her mouth as one Healer placed his hands on her arm.

A tall, silver-haired Elf appeared from behind Legolas, startling even him.

"She has been like this for two hours, my Prince. She will not last long if she continues this way."

"What do you suggest, Hyldur?"

"I would advise she be taken from the Realm, into Rivendell. It is the only way she will remain in this world; her injuries are passed my skill to heal: Lord Elrond is her only hope."

The fair prince nodded.

"It will be done."

The eyes of the woman opened abruptly, Legolas was pierced by them. They were a pain-crazed green, madness in their centers; he was naked in their gaze. Her eyes pleaded with him for relief, for respite. Suddenly, the madness left, leaving bitter voids in its midst; the only expression in them was emptiness as she fell back against the bed, unconscious.

Troubled and worried, the Elf Prince turned from the room, never realizing her eyes hadn't been begging him for relief, but release.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Are you certain, Hyldur, nothing may be done within the Realm? Is there no other way?"

The silver-haired Healer glanced at the rigid back of the prince, then turned to the King.

"There is nothing, my liege," he answered, his breath soft, "She will die without the skill of Lord Elrond."

"She goes to Imladris, Father."

The Prince's voice was soft, with thinly veiled steel, brooking no refusal. Thranduil swiftly turned his head to his son, dismissing the Healer. When they were alone, he stood, looking at him, watching him stare out the window, past the Forest, his back to his King.

"I am King here, Legolas; I lay the laws and edicts. It is I who will decide this girl's fate."

He laid a hand on his son's shoulder.

"You will allow her to go to Imladris," said Legolas, "You have already made your decision concerning her. What troubles you is that I wish to go with her."

"_Av'aníron nautho allen a i fuin en taur, iônen."_

His expression unreadable, Legolas continued to gaze out the night-filled window. In a firm voice, he said:_  
_

"_Im mellon en corf-cyll Frodo, adar. Maethannen erin tailf o Pelennor, dan in chirth o Mordor, na Naug, Ithron, tad Perin, a i aran o Gondor. Im ú-chên, adar._ I am the best escort for her through the Forest and the Mountains; I and a company of my choosing."

Thranduil thought over this, then, sighing, he took his hand from his son's arm and placed it along the bridge of his nose, rubbing gently.

"You speak truly, Legolas. I will grant you your company and escort. Be ready quickly."

His son turned to him. With his back to the darkening sky, he was framed by the first night stars, causing his vivid blue eyes to become black-blue and his golden hair to be silvered. There was much wisdom in his son, Thranduil realized; so much about him had been changed by that cursed Sauron and the War of the Ring.

Gravely, the Prince of Mirkwood bowed to his King, and strode out of the throne room.

"_Aralas, iôn vîn gâr noe sain, maer ego um, av'istum."_

_

* * *

_

The Healers tightened the restraints, then mounted their horses as one. Nodding his head, Legolas waved farewell to his father, and turned to his company.

"_Noro mae, iônen."_ whispered Thranduil, at that moment wanting nothing more than his son's safe return.

* * *

They rode swiftly, always moving through the trees at a hurried pace, stopping only to rest their horses. Once breath was caught and strength renewed, they set off again along the Wood-Elf Road. 

"We will reach the edge of the Forest after nightfall, Legolas, if we are able to continue this pace."

"Yes Elenion, it is as you say. We will rest beside the Old Ford; at daybreak, we will cross and head toward the Misty Mountains."

"Will we take the High Pass, Legolas?" asked Rylindë.

"Yes, but only after our horses have properly rested, then we will take the Pass, and end at the borders of Imladris. Do you approve, Hyldur?"

The Healer looked thoughtful as they rode, then, looking back at the woman's silent form, he answered:

"There is no pace too quick, my Lord. It is a struggle for her to even cry out in pain."

* * *

Finally, they reached the edge of the Forest and made camp, setting their field tents up quickly, Legolas with his two oldest friends. As Urelindë lit a fire, the company gathered together for warmth. 

"Tell us a tale, Legolas; one of your adventures."

Legolas looked at Thraldor, sighed, and made himself more comfortable. Staring into the fire, thinking of an appropriate memory, he looked up as he felt the eyes of another.

Haldith was watching him, looking at him with that piercing gaze identical to that of her brother.

"_The moon shone dark,_

_Fear in her heart,_

_As Evil marched under her skies._

_Hope had fled_

_From those who would hold it,_

_Courage remained with_

_Only a few._

_Three hundred to ten thousand strong,_

_There was no hope for day or dawn,_

_Yet still they would fight,_

_To bring the end of Saruman._

_As swords grew chill,_

_And from eyes fell tears,_

_Hope came at last._

_They came with bows and blades,_

_Came as Hope began to fade._

_As men caught them in their sight,_

_Hearts grew strong and courage rose,_

_As they watched the Galadhrim._

_Wonder at their beauty, _

_And relief at their coming,_

_The soon King of Gondor welcomed Haldir."_

So beginning, Legolas told of the battle at Helm's Deep, and the heroic death of Haldir.

When he had finished, his companions nodded and went off to their tents to sleep; all except Haldith. She sat by the fire, staring into the flames. Legolas sat down beside her.

"You have been patient, Haldith of Lothlórien," he remarked.

Shoulders stiff and rigid, she replied, "My brother taught me well. He would always say the most fulfilling answer would come with patience, as well as the most satisfying target."

He was silent, then said softly, "He was a brave warrior, Haldith; he died fighting for his people, his friends. You know of Aragorn, son of Arathorn?"

"Yes," she answered quietly, as if a normal tone would bring tears, "He is the High King of Gondor, last heir to the Men of Númenor. Haldir spoke of him many times."

"Haldir died in his arms. I have never seen Aragorn in such despair; he fought with a vengeance and desperation unknown to any. Aragorn slew more Orcs than either myself, or Gimli."

"Gimli was your Dwarf companion, was he not?"

He nodded; she smiled faintly.

"I remember him, on our scouting party through the woods of Lothlórien. He breathed so loud, I could have shot him in the dark."

Legolas chuckled, "Yes, I remember that."

Haldith sighed, then stood.

"Thank you, Legolas, for telling me the battle in which Haldir died; it does much to ease my grief, to know he died defending even those who had no claim on him, to know he died with honor and courage. Good night."

As he watched her go, his heart mourned for Haldir, and Tinylia, and Tándil, and Celebros, and…there were so many who had fallen in that battle, so many who had fallen because of the treachery of Saruman, the evil of Sauron. Melancholy, he put out the fire, cast an eye on the horses, then went to his tent.

* * *

A.N.: 

Aralas meaning "Noble Leaf"

Translation:

_Av'aníron nautho allen a i fuin en taur, iônen _ I do not like to think of you and the dangers of the Forest, my son

_Im mellon en corf-cyll Frodo, adar. Maethannen erin tailf o Pelennor, dan in chirth o Mordor, na Naug, Ithron, tad Perin, a i aran o Gondor. Im ú-chên, adar _ I was companion to Ring-bearer Frodo, Father. I fought on the Fields of Pelennor, against the armies of Mordor, alongside a Dwarf, a Wizard, two Halflings, and the King of Gondor. I am no child, Father

_Aralas, iôn vîn gâr noe sain, maer egor um, av'istam_ Aralas, our son has changed; for good or ill, it is yet to be seen

_Noro mae, iônen _ Ride well, my son


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next morning came bright and clear. Isénduil awoke before the others and saw Legolas was absent from his bedding; dressing quickly, he moved the tent flap aside and looked around. There, on the bridge of the Ford; his long blond hair hung from his head as he looked down on the Anduín. Noting his pensive air, Isénduil refrained from speaking, merely stood next to him in silence. After long minutes, Legolas spoke:

"This time of morning soothes my spirit; as the sun rises on the day, the moon and stars shine still. Peace and tranquility in their circles."

"Yet in the end, the sun reigns," replied Isénduil.

A faint smile played across the prince's face.

"Only for a day, my friend," he said, turning to his childhood playmate, "Only until He falls beneath the horizon, then the moon rules the skies. Even then there is balance in the twilight and pre-dawn hours."

"As you say, _Tári_."

Legolas turned back to the river.

"I have not heard that name in many years."

Isénduil looked at him, his profile against the mountains. Finally, he said:

"We have all changed, _Tári_; none of us are children any longer."

"And I am one, now?" Legolas asked in an ironic voice, a smile of sardonic amusement tugging at his lips.

"No; you are not a child, but it would seem, since your return, you would need a reminder of who you are. Yes, you have the duties as Prince of Mirkwood Forest, responsibilities to your father; you have the memories of fallen friends and enemies. You have the knowledge of who you once were for over two thousand years, and who you are at present. Yet still, despite the battles you have seen, the scars you bear, and your duties, you are _Tári_, the boy whom I pulled from a stream and who later saved Rylindë from a Forest Spider. You will always be _Tári_, no matter where you go, whom you save or kill."

Silence.

"Where did the idiot who poured strong wine into my father's tea run to? You have become wise, Isénduil. Never let it be said that only battles bring wisdom."

Legolas clapped him on the shoulder, smiling as he had not for months: broadly. Isénduil felt his heart lighten.

"Look, the others have risen," Legolas pointed.

He turned to his friend.

"Come, let us hasten to Imladris. There is one who dwindles quickly."

* * *

They rode swiftly, pausing only at the mountains to rest, then to hurry onward. Faster and faster, they crossed the High Pass just after sunset. Seeing the concern on Hyldur's face spurred Legolas on; he could clearly recall the last time he had seen a Healer so anxious and uncertain; it was after Frodo had been stabbed by a Mordor blade and taken to Imladris, as they were taking the woman. Even then, when he did not realize the hobbit's importance, he knew the seriousness of his injuries. He remembered Lord Elrond's lined and weary face, an expression not often seen on Elves; it did not bode well.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time they had reached the Last Homely House: Legolas had sent the twins ahead to warn those who remained, and as such, they were met by the Lord himself.

"_Suilaid, _Legolas; I had not thought to see you after we last met."

"_Mae govannen_, my Lord. We have an injured woman with us, one whose injuries are to great for Hyldur and his apprentices to heal."

Elrond's eyes grew even somber as they caught sight of the restrained woman. He spoke softly to Hyldur:

"Has she been violent?"

"_Ú_, my Lord. As of a day ago, she has been too weak to moan, yet still her body spasms as if in a nightmare."

Elrond nodded.

"Come, bring her in."

* * *

They carried her up the steps of the house, past open rooms filled with moonlight, up to the bedchambers. Elrond noted how they were careful to not touch her skin, and commented on this.

"She appears to not want physical contact, my Lord. _Cân sui pen ned naeg."_

"Hyldur, go in search of _athelas_; it has more uses than healing knife wounds. Asrael, find some cloths and scented water, she has fever. Elár, go with him."

As everyone left the room, leaving Elrond alone with the woman, he was able to judge her injuries more accurately. _/Thegra naid thegra/_, he decided, and began removing the Woodland wraps. He was surprised to see other bandages beneath those, though he did not hesitate in removing them. They were strange, he noted, and sticky. Finally, with yards of cloth and strange bandage strewn on the floor, he looked at the woman's form fully.

There were scratches along her arms, where some of the strange bandage had been: it appeared as if she had tried to defend herself against a beast with claws. These weren't too deep, yet still had penetrated enough to leave scars after they healed. Abrasions peppered the outline of her face, as if she had fallen against rough stone; there was evidence to Elrond's expert eye of healed scratches along her wrists and legs.

Taking the bowl offered by Asrael, he dipped a cloth into its liquid, and gently washed away the grime from her forehead, cleaning it while Healing her. Softly, he laid a finger on her brow, and whispered healing words to her body. At his touch, the woman trembled, shaking despite her injuries, and weakly held her arms in front of her in defense.

"Meredith."

She had whispered so faintly, even his hearing nearly missed it.

"_Im ú-Meredith; telin ned faer vaer, nesto len. Geril estel ned nin."_

Her face, so tight with pain and…loss?...relaxed, almost as if in sleep, and he was allowed to continue cleansing her wounds. For all his Elven objectivity, he found himself growing angrier as he saw further and further damage to her body, and signs that whatever had happened to her had been occurring for a long time. She had puncture scarring along her thighs, circular burns along her collarbone, and numerous small shiny scars all over.

Two thin lines marred her face: one along her right brow, the other along the left side of her nose, as if someone had traced a knife-edge right beside its bridge. What incensed him even further were the old and recent, signs of someone forcing her. This woman…no, this _child_, he amended, looking at her and judging her years, looked as if she had been through a war, and come out the loser.

Cooling his anger, he dipped the cloth yet again in the bowl, having already been refilled twice; tenderly, he cleaned the last and worst of her injuries: a deep laceration along her belly, extending from her hipbone until just beneath her breast. The body beneath him winced as she sucked in a breath when his hands touched the yellow-and-green tinged areas around the wound. Gentling his fingers even further, he continued to work tirelessly.

* * *

_Four hours later…_

_/Legolas has paced the antechamber for the last two hours_/, noted Thraldor, _/He's going to wear a hole in the carpet. Then where will our welcome be?/_

"Sit down, Legolas," remarked Urelindë irritably, "You're making the rest of us uncomfortable.

At that moment, the doors opened, and their host walked in, looking haggard and weary, but relieved. Legolas stopped his pacing, and hurried over to him.

"How is she? Will she be all right?"

"Yes, Prince Legolas, she will be well. Her injuries took much of my skill to heal, but she will live, and regain consciousness within a day's rest, I hope. With your permission," he added in a quiet voice, "I would like to speak with you further on the extent of her injuries; Hyldur as well."

Legolas nodded, perplexed but gratified.

* * *

"Are you very certain, my Lord?"

"Yes, Legolas; she had various injuries, most of them previous to whatever made those lacerations, and there were signs of sexual abuse. I don't know where this girl came from, but she will be in considerable pain when she awakens."

Legolas rounded on the silver-haired Healer.

"You!" he cried, "Why did you not tell me so when you first looked at her?"

The Healer remained calm and collected, despite the prince's anger.

"I was not certain of the whole of her injuries, my Prince. My main concern was her other, more serious injuries that could have caused her death. Lord Elrond was the only one who would have been able to help her. I am sorry if you believe I deceived you, but I did not, and chose what I thought was the best course of action. I still stand by my decision."

Legolas breathed in deeply for a few minutes, and then looked at his long-time counselor with remorse.

"I am sorry as well, Hyldur," he said regretfully, "You did what any Healer would do: you looked at the worst of the injuries, and acted accordingly. I am sorry."

"Accepted, my Prince; now, might I enquire as to when we are to return home?"

"What?"

"Home," he repeated, "Now that the woman has been Healed, surely there is no reason for us to remain?"

Legolas and Elrond regarded each other. The Lord looked back at the Healer, and said carefully:

"I believe it would be acceptable for you to return to the Forest, Hyldur, as well as your apprentices. However, I believe it would be wise for the Prince and some of his company to remain. Perhaps Haldith and Isénduil? Good. Farewell;_ sŷl vain adel len._"

Bowing gracefully to both the Woodland Elves, Elrond turned around, and strode once more through the doors, closing them behind him. Grasping the confused Healer's arm, Legolas said:

"_Ir tôl lû,_ Hyldur. I go now to bid farewell to my companions."

And with that, the Prince made a hasty exit before he was caught and was demanded an explanation.

* * *

A.N.:

Translation:

_Suilaid_ Greetings

_Mae govannen_ Well met

_Ú _ No

_Cân sui pen ned naeg_ She cries out as if in pain

_Thegra naid thegra_ First things first

_Im ú-Meredith; telin ned faer vaer, nesto len. Geril estel ned nin_ I am not Meredith; I come in good spirit, to help you. Trust me

_Sŷl vain adel len_ Fair winds on thy back

_Ir tôl lû, Hyldur _ Until then, Hyldur

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"_Câr man?_ Has he lost his mind? What were you thinking, Hyldur, leaving him there, when he has his duties here, where he belongs? Not off gallivanting with some Human and Half-Elf!"

The Healer remained silent until his king had worn himself out with his anger, then said:

"My liege, the Lord Elrond himself suggested for the Prince to stay behind, along with two of his companions. You, yourself agreed that taking the woman to Rivendell was the best course of action. Who would be a better representative of your Realm, than your son? When the woman awakes, it will be your son who has first privilege to question her as to her presence in the Forest. Was this not a choice that needed to be made?"

Thranduil stopped pacing the room, looked at his advisor, and sighed.

"Yes, Hyldur, you are right. It's just…I dislike not being with my son, now that the Evil is defeated, and he is returned from his travels."

"I can see that, my liege. The Prince will return; it is only a matter of time."

"Yes," smiled Thranduil regretfully, "Of all the gifts of the Valar, Time is one of which we Elves have plenty."

* * *

Dreams, half-images, faces and voices she couldn't see or hear, yet knew were there, just out of reach. _/Why do you care?/ _asked a voice_ /What do you have to live for, now that Meredith is gone?/_ Suddenly, it all came back. 

Fire in her blood, ash in her lungs, she breathed in harshly, and screamed. She bolted upright, into a pair of strong arms that opened to catch her.

* * *

Out of nowhere, Elrond found himself with an armful of human-child; he felt her chest heaving against his as she dry-sobbed. He laid a hand on her head, and tilted it back, looking into her wide eyes. 

"_Pen-dithen, beriad sí. Nallal ir i elei avohíla ben menel."_

She looked at him, tears running down her face. He had never seen such expression in eyes before, not even the wild madness in Celebrían's after her rescue. Rage, shame, sorrow, wisdom; fear, pain and grief. Such grief, he could only guess at its source.

"I have lost a loved one as well, _pen-dithen_. Here you are safe to relieve your heart; here, you are protected from all else."

Still she looked at him with those vivid eyes, with tears falling from her face, onto his clothes. Then, nodding slightly, she buried her head in his shoulder, and clutched him tight.

* * *

Letting go of everything, she sobbed her grief into this strange man's shoulder, moaning in anguish as images of her sister played across her vision: scenes of happy Meredith, sad Meredith, bruised Meredith, and Meredith's impatient smile. It was too much for her to take in, too much for her to keep in; she moaned and railed and beat her fists against the strange man's chest. All the poison of vengeance against her father bleeding from her heart as hot tears bled from her eyes. 

Finally, after she had cried herself out, she looked up at the strange man. Solemnly, she regarded him, registering the fact that she was being held in his arms; she looked into his grey eyes, and was comforted. Slowly, she smiled a soft, shy smile; the man sucked in a breath, and before she could tug away, pulled her to him in a fierce embrace.

All her struggles ceased; no man had ever held her this way before: only Mother and Meredith.

* * *

Seeing her smile had cut to his heart; her face streaked by tears and sorrow, lit by the gentleness in her smile. Gentleness and cautious trust. 

Looking into the girl's eyes had touched him deeply…he had felt such an overwhelming need to protect her…her shy smile was too much, the last thread. This girl had been hurt so terribly; he swore to himself, and her, and Eru…He was going to discover the source of her pain and sorrow, and destroy it.

* * *

Silence passed between them as they regarded one another: green eyes to grey. Her hand shook slightly as she reached up to touch the side of his face; no, not his face, he realized, but his ears. The expression on her face, her wonder, had a slight smile tugging at his lips, though he remained still. 

Her eyes were focused on his ears, her hands reaching to touch their points.

"_Û-gennil edhel, pen-dithen?"_ he asked.

She snatched her hands back to her at the sound of his voice, then, a puzzled line appearing between her brows. _/He speaks another language./ _she thought _/It sounds so beautiful, like music./_ She raised puzzled eyes to him, questioning. He switched tongues quickly:

"Have you not seen an Elf before?"

_/His voice/_ she decided in some distant part of her brain _/His voice is musical, too./_

"Who-who are you?" she whispered hoarsely.

"I am Lord Elrond; you were found in Eryn Lasgalen, known in the Common Tongue as Mirkwood Forest, by Legolas Thranduilîon. He brought you back to his father's keep."

"Here," she said, one word asking plenty.

"No," he smiled slightly, "I am not Legolas' father. This, is my home: the Last Homely House; called Rivendell by some, Imladris by others. You were brought here for Healing."

She started slightly, and then delicately felt her stomach. Looking down, she saw it was bandaged, from her hip to her breasts. She touched the dressings lightly; all at once, a wave of dizziness caught her, starting from her belly to her head, leaving a dull ache as it moved.

Suddenly weary, she lied back on her pillows. Turning her head, she caught sight of a simple, yet elegant, bowl half-empty with liquid. She looked at him with questioning eyes.

"You were ill as well as injured," he explained, "There was fever as well as infection."

Her lips formed a silent 'oh' as she looked thoughtful. Looking apprehensive, she asked in a hoarse voice:

"May I have some water?"

He smiled again, softly.

"Of course."

* * *

Legolas had not left the hall of the sickroom except for rest and food. Thus he was the first to see Elrond come from the woman's chamber. He leaped to his feet, and said: 

"Has she awoken?"

Elrond raised his hand, sighed, then, on seeing Legolas' impatience, raised an eyebrow as well.

"Have you been waiting long, my friend?" he said in an amused voice.

"Has she?" the other Elf demanded.

"Yes, she has. Don't, Legolas," warned Elrond, stepping in front of him as he made a move to the doors, "She is a very distressed and confused young girl. It will only frighten her more for you to storm in there without an introduction or formal meeting.

"She is no immediate threat to Mirkwood or Rivendell; give her some time to become used to where she is."

"Very well," agreed Legolas grumpily, annoyed at having his interrogation stop before it had even begun.

* * *

The longer he was gone, the more agitation consumed her; she was on pins and needles, and jumped at every noise. She was so uneasy she started at the opening of her chamber door, only to relax when she saw he had returned, holding a cup of liquid. He hadn't missed her low sigh of relief, despite the small smile she gave him. 

"What is that?" she asked, eyeing the cup; it wasn't water.

"This is a special mixture of herbs that will help you to sleep. And this," he pulled a flask from his robes, "is your water."

She took it from him, and eagerly placed it to her lips. She had never tasted such sweet water! It was cool and refreshing to her parched throat, its sweetness mixed with a slight tang. She couldn't remember water tasting this clean and clear; yes, she remembered water, but none like this!

"Here," said the Lord, handing the cup to her, "This will ease your sleep."

She looked from the cup to him, apprehensive.

"Will it give me dreams?"

"No," he answered, "No dreams will come while you rest."

She took the cup from him, closed her eyes, and drank. She opened her eyes.

"Nothing's happening," she said, confused.

"It will be a few minutes before the draught begins its work," he replied, standing up.

"No!" she cried, clutching his arm, her eyes already beginning to lose focus. She fought the affects of the drink.

"Stay with me," she mumbled, her glassy eyes pleading with him.

He lowered himself again to her side, reversing her grip on him, so that he was the one holding her.

"I will not leave you," he said.

Her eyes started at this, but the drugs were too quick. She fell into slumber, her breathing steady and deep. Elrond stayed with her long into the night, and she did not stir until dawn.

* * *

A.N.: 

Translation:

_Câr man?_ What is he doing?

_Pen-dithen, beriad sí. Nallal ir i elei avohíla ben menel _ Little one, there is protection here. Cry until the stars no longer light the sky

_Pen-dithen_ Little one

_Û-gennil edhel, pen-dithen?_ Have you never seen an Elf before, little one?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

There was darkness, and then there was a small light. It was soft and warm, gentle and loving. It grew larger and larger, slowly pushing back the blackness from behind her eyes. In her sleep, she smiled.

* * *

His heart felt a pull as he watched her rest. When a smile played about her lips, another tugged at his own. He cared for her; he realized this. Despite the obvious differences, she reminded him of Arwen: so beautiful, saddened by memory and loss. His smile turned to a frown as he recalled the ugliness of her injuries.

* * *

Slowly, she opened her eyes, hesitant about the brilliance around her. Immediately, she saw him regarding her with distant eyes, as though seeing her yet thinking of something else. _/Elrond./_ she remembered. His eyes quickly regained their focus as she struggled to rise. Gently, he helped her, being careful to not touch her. 

She looked at him, and asked:

"Am I contagious, or something?"

He looked sharply at her, then relaxed and smiled again. She liked to see him smile: it made her feel safe…and protected.

"No, there is no contagion within you," he said kindly, "While you were ill, you reacted badly to physical contact. It was difficult to Heal you, but possible."

"How…badly?" she asked, curious and disinterested at the same time.

"You had to be restrained, _pen-dithen_," he said gently.

She was quiet for a moment. Suddenly, a low growl interrupted the silence. She quickly placed her hands against her belly, wincing as she pressed too hard. Elrond smothered a grin at her embarrassment, then frowned slightly at her pain. He clapped his hands twice, and the door to her chamber opened.

She immediately still, her body tense as another Elf appeared, carrying a tray of food. Elrond waved a hand to the table beside them. The Elf kept his eyes lowered; the girl's anxiety was extremely evident to one with heightened senses.

"_Hannon le_, Elár," said Elrond calmly, as the dark-haired Elf left as quietly as he had come.

They ate in a silence that was not awkward, not for them. She chewed her food delicately, savoring its taste and flavor.

"May I ask you questions, _pen-dithen_?" asked Elrond at last.

She was silent, and as he looked at her, appeared to be deep in thought,

"Yes."

He settled back in a chair, and steepled his fingers.

"Who are you?"

She swallowed slowly, relieved at getting an easy question.

"My name is Briana Morgan."

"A strange name, Brianamorgan. What does it mean?"

She smiled slightly.

"No. Briana is my first name; my family name is Morgan. It's my f-father's last name, therefore it's given to my mother, his wife, and my sister and I, his children."

He looked at her, intrigued.

"The only beings I have ever known to have family names passed on to their children are hobbits. You don't appear to be of hobbit-kind, however."

"No," she shook her head, "I don't know what a hobbit is, but I do know I'm human, if that helps."

He nodded slightly.

"Thank you, _pen-dithen_. It does help me."

She cocked her head to one side.

"What does that mean? _Pen-dithen_?"

Elrond smiled.

"It means 'little one'" he explained, "It is Sindarin, a form of Elvish. There are other forms as well."

"I like it; your language is so beautiful, like music."

Smiling, he chuckled.

"Then you shall be _pen-dithen_, Briana."

He leaned forward.

"_Pen-dithen_, who is Meredith?"

* * *

She sucked in a breath, her eyes pressed shut tightly to block tears. 

"How-how do you know about M-Meredith?" she asked thickly, concentrating on her breathing.

He noticed her reaction, and guessed that whoever this Meredith was, they had been important.

"Who is Meredith?" he asked again, his voice gentle.

Briana swallowed, and opened her eyes. Elrond nearly drew back from the misery in their depths; he remained firm. He laid a hand lightly on her shoulder, frowned as she cringed slightly at his touch; concealing his hurt, he gently pressed.

"Who was Meredith, _pen-dithen?_"

"She was my little sister," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and memory as she spoke, smiling slightly in remembrance:

"She was beautiful, her hair red-gold and her eyes gray. I can see her playing in the park, hear her laugh again; she didn't laugh very often. She would smile, sometimes, at the smallest things, when we were alone, and it would light up her face, making her freckles stand out even more."

Elrond paid attention to her face, tucking away her pride in her sister, the way her whole countenance would change with each memory. One thing stood out, however.

"Why would she only laugh and smile when you were alone, little one?"

He watched as she sighed, and fixed her eyes from him out the window, unable to meet his gaze. He grew concerned as he noticed her eyes harden to chips of ice, and narrow to slits of tempered steel.

"My sister and I came from a…troubled home. Our mother died eight years ago, just after giving birth to Meredith; we were left with our father."

She spat the last word with venom, as if it was a curse.

"He made our lives a living hell, nightmare by day and torture by night. He began drinking so badly, he would hurt her. He would hurt my Meredith."

Elrond grew confused: how could a parent harm their child, their flesh and blood, for whom they were responsible?

"At least, he tried," she whispered, focused on her memories, forgetting Elrond's presence, "I had learned to hide from him, from before. Whenever he came home, I would put her away; sometimes he found her and beat us both for it, and other times he wouldn't and then take it out on me."

The Elf Lord had difficulty breathing, realizing in surreal horror just where the signs of her old injuries had been founded.

"I didn't mind, though," she said absently, shaking her head and looking at Elrond, "I would have gone to hell for Meredith, as long as I could keep her safe. And I did. She knew, too- knew what I did for her. She died because of him, that mother-fucking bastard."

Briana couldn't take lying down any longer; groaning in pain, she swung her legs from the bed, thrust the blanket from her, and walked unsteadily to the window. Leaning against its frame for support, she had to breathe harshly for air.

"My mother tried to call the police on him, but the captain was in his back-pocket from years before; he would beat her, too. That's why she died," Briana smiled grimly, speaking in a bleak and angered voice:

"Because she didn't give him a son like he wanted. So, he hit her after she came home from the hospital. And he didn't stop until she was dead; he walked down to the local bar after that, to get wasted."

Elrond was appalled at the child before him, a far-off part of his mind trying to imagine himself and Celebrían as such a family. He failed.

"Before she- she …She asked me if it was time to go home with an angel she had seen," she whispered, "I felt my heart break as I told her to go; she knew, too, I think. She told me she loved me, and then she was gone."

She swallowed back the tears and hysteria that threatened to escape her control.

"After Meredith died, I ran out of the hospital. I-I just c-couldn't stay there, not with her silent body, her dead eyes," she stammered, soundless tears running from her face, her eyes fixed unwavering on some distant tree in the mountains.

Elrond stood from the bed, and walked behind her. Gently, he turned her body from the window, though she refused to move her head; with one finger, he turned her chin to him, noting strangely that her eyes were now fixed on the top button of his robe. Using the same fingertip, he tilted her eyes to him.

"You have no blame, my child. There was nothing you could have done."

"She's gone, forever," came the broken reply.

He smiled softly at her as he held her to him.

"One is not truly dead until one is forgotten, _pen-dithen_. I have no misgivings that you will ever forget Meredith Morgan."

He held her to him, looking closely into her eyes.

"_Telil nan aur trî in nae_, little one;_ garo estel ned nin_."

Holding her gently, so as not to frighten her, he tucked her head beneath his chin. Briana was puzzled that though he was touching her, she didn't want to pull away from him. She craved that feeling of security, as though he could protect her from anything. She returned his hug hesitantly. Elrond smiled, and though she could not see it, she felt the lifting of his lips in her hair.

"Briana," he began, "I would ask you another question."

She pulled from him slightly, so that his arms were still around her, but only loosely.

"As I watch you, _pen-dithen_, I feel protective of you. It angers me to see you hurt by memories, shadows from your past; it pleases me to see you smile with pleasure. I would ask you for consent to adopt you, _pen-dithen_."

The child in his arms froze, her breath coming in harsh pants.

"_Pen-dithen_, I will care for you, protect you, guard you; I will not allow any harm to befall you. You would be a daughter of my house, taught freedom and love."

She snorted at that, then said in a bleak voice:

"I don't know how to love, Elrond. Those I've loved in the past have died; would you be so unwise as to continue the cycle? Don't you know trouble comes in threes?"

Elrond placed his hands on her arms.

"_Hênen_, you do not see how others can love you. Do you fear me?"

"No."

"Do you feel safe with me?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel respect for me?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?"

"Y-Yes."

He bowed his head to hers, and whispered:

"That is a child's love for a parent. I will honor you, _pen-dithen_, and protect you."

She was silent, then looked at him, a quivering smile upon her lips.

"I can't call you 'F-Father' or 'Dad'; there're too many bad memories with those words. What's the Elvish word for 'Father'?"

He smiled at her quickness.

"'_Ada_' is 'father'."

"Then you will be _Ada_ to me. My _ada_."

"_Iellen, eston le Elenia Beriadthêl."_

She grinned at him suddenly, throwing him off with the brilliance in her smile.

"My _ada_," she whispered.

* * *

Lord Elrond smiled, his heart flushed with pride as he strode from her room, leaving her to rest peacefully, to recuperate from her injuries. He sensed the other Elf's presence just before he spoke: 

"What have you learned, my Lord?"

The Lord looked at the princeling, then sighed mysteriously, at least to the younger Elf.

"I have found a daughter, Legolas. A daughter fired to tempered steel, honed to a deadly point, and barren of love. I have given this child the protection of my House; do not attempt to interrogate her without myself in the room."

Legolas gaped at the ruler of Imladris in shock and repressed annoyance.

"Have you taken leave of your senses, my Lord? You barely know the chit, her being unconscious until two nights prior. How do you know she is to be trusted, let alone worthy of your generosity?"

Elrond looked fiercely upon the Prince, who was confused and irritated at this outcome.

"This child," said Elrond slowly, "is as much mine as if I were her true father. You will receive your answers, Legolas Thranduilîon, on that you may rest your temper. But whether I adopt her or not, I would not have her questioned without one person, at least, able to give her security."

"And your ability to trust her?" asked Legolas wearily, already knowing the answer.

"I trust her as my own blood. I will care for her, Legolas; I will protect her."

Surprised at the vehemence in Elrond's voice, Legolas looked at him. Burning from the Elven Lord's eyes was a glittering fire of fatherly vengeance and anger. He had discovered something, Legolas realized: something from the woman's past had sparked these dangerous emotions.

Time would tell if Legolas would have patience enough to discover it for himself.

* * *

A.N.: 

"One is not truly dead until one is forgotten." **(I do NOT own this! Tolkien does!)**

"You can only come to the morning through the shadows"; from Tolkien, himself **(OR this!)**

**To Navaer Lalaith**: Yes, you had corrected me earlier with 'ata' being 'father', but from DragonFlame, I like 'ada'

A.N. II:

From http : real elvish . tripod . com /, a reliable source of LOTR Elvish information:

**Second names were common, names given after their first naming**. They often told something about the person that they or someone else found important.

A.N. III:

Translation:

_Hannon le_ Thank you

_Telil nan aur trî in nae_ You can only come to the morning through the shadows

_Garo estel ned nin_ Have trust in me

_Hênen_ My child

_Iellen, eston le Elenia Beriadthêl_ My daughter, I name you Elenia Beriadthêl

_Elenia _ meaning "Star-void"

_Beriadthêl_ meaning "Sister's protection"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_/It was beautiful here,/_ she reflected, _/Meredith would've loved the trees./_

Swallowing hard, she forced her mind from her sister, afraid of the path her memories would take. Lying still on her bed, she detached herself from her body and catalogued her injuries: her head was bandaged, probably had a few nasty scratches. She felt her arms lightly, her hands skimming over the fresh scars.

Placing her fingers on her belly, she thought for a moment. She didn't have this one at the hospital; it must've come from the truck. _/Come to think of it, what did happen with the truck?/ _she wondered _/And why aren't I dead?/_

_/Who is he? Why does he want me? What were those words he repeated to me? Elenia Beriadthêl?/_

Turning on her side, wincing again at the pain of her wound, she waited for him to return.

* * *

His bearing graceful, the Lord of the House walked quickly to the girl's room, impatient to see her. His eyes keen, he noticed the two shapes outside her doors. 

"_Aduial vaer, iynnen_. _El man?"_

"_Mae, Ada, sui istal_. Tell us, who is this new sister we have acquired?" asked his eldest son.

"And why weren't we informed?" grumbled the elegantly slouched form of Elrohir.

"_E man sad?_" asked Elladan, pointedly ignoring his brother.

"She is resting, my sons. I was about to wake her for her midday meal. Even now, she will only eat when I am in the room," Elrond sighed his frustration.

"Well, _Ada_, perhaps it is time for her to meet with her new family, yes? It has been four days. After all, she is our sister now. She'll have to be introduced to us sooner or later, anyway," spoke Elladan importantly.

Elrond merely raised his eyebrow at his son, then turned his thoughts inward.

_/Yes, she will need her family to be made known to her./_ he thought _/Though I know she'd prefer it to be later, rather than sooner, perhaps this is for the best. Yes, and I will be with her lest they overwhelm her with their…exuberance./_

"Very well, you shall eat with us. With you being family, perhaps she will be convinced to eat with you in the room."

He paused, then looked sternly at the tall Elves before him.

"This is not to be boasted of to Prince Legolas; you are meeting the girl because you are family. He will meet with her when she is better prepared to deal with his questioning. Understood?"

Elrohir lowered his head. _/How does he do it? How does he always know?/_

Bowing his head, Elladan quirked an eyebrow in his brother's direction, followed by an annoyingly superior wink, at least to Elrohir. Ignoring the behavior of his sons, Elrond strode to the doors, and gently knocked twice, opening the door at the soft voice within.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the presence of the room. It was focused on a thin form, lying on pillows in the bed. His eyes watched the bright smile on the girl's … woman's? ... lips fade and the color of her face to drain away so quickly he feared she would faint. Her green eyes turned distant, an invisible barrier between her and the others in the room. A protective shell of ice encasing the summer leaf, beautiful yet fated to die blackened and frigid by its very defense. 

The signs of past abuse were apparent even to his eyes; his Lord had trained him well. Looking over to his father now, he knew now the reason behind his forcefulness between him and Legolas; this woman's condition would likely have aroused his father's paternal instincts, now that Arwen was married to Estel in Minas Tirith.

Sighing, he stood just inside the door, allowing his younger brother entrance into the room, and his father to tend to her dressings. The girl's eyes, however, did not change; they remained empty unless they looked on Elrond, then were filled with accusation. _/She had trusted only him,/_ he realized _/And now he's brought us, strangers, into her room, where she is vulnerable. This might take some time./_

* * *

Elrond was not surprised to see her reaction to the twins, but in truth, he was disappointed. He tended to her injuries carefully, noting her stiff responses to his touch and the distance in her eyes. The detachment in them was no less bearable than the betrayal in their depths when she turned her gaze to him alone. 

Sighing, he finished his inspection, and washed his hands in bowl. Taking a chair, he motioned for the twins to come forward, missing her sharp recoil against the wall.

While their father did not see her reaction to them, Elladan surely had. He had also seen her eyes cast aside her indifference, only to be filled with fear and panic. Still a few paces from the bed, Elladan stopped. Bowing formally, he said to the frightened girl:

"_Suilon le, Elenia. Im mûlel, muinthêlen."_

Elrohir looked puzzled at his brother's reserve in his address, then decided to make up for his twin's coldness. He sat on the bed, unheeding of his father's warning eye and the girl's alarm.

"_Gil síla or i lû o govadedem, pen-velui. Im Elrohir, iôn o Elrond: Maethor vereg o Imladris."_

He placed a hand on her arm.

* * *

He touched her! Crying aloud, she lashed out at him with her nails, wanting blood. He pulled away from her quickly, so that she missed his face, and caught her wrist. Twisting about, frantic to escape from his grip: in her desperation, she clawed at his wrist, raking its flesh with her nails, bleeding him and whimpering at the same time. 

"_Daro!_" came a loud command.

The girl stopped her struggles, panting, eyes alight with anger, pain, betrayal, and…horror? Elrohir bit his tongue as the pain came, sharp but bearable. Annoyed at her reaction to his flattering greeting, he let go of her and held his hand to his side. Elrond came forward with a bandage, and cleaned his son's injury.

"Is this any way to greet your family, Elenia?" chided Elrond gently, "Though I agree with you, he was being too obsequious, you really mustn't do him bodily harm. He is, after all, my son."

Gently, he soothed her, holding her limp form to him and stroking her hair. She looked at Elrohir with frightened eyes, eyes that bespoke her horror at what she had done. Crawling from her support against the wall and from Elrond's arms, she ignored the pain that stabbed at her gut.

Once she reached the edge of the bed, she took his injured hand in hers, and cradled it. She looked up at him:

"I am-I am so s-sorry. I-I don't like strangers. Are you _Ada_'s son?"

He nodded stiffly, still annoyed with her. She looked pensive as she stared down at his hand. Quietly, she said:

"Then you are my brother; I've never had a brother before."

The other Elf, the one who had given her some space between them, came forward, his steps cautious and long, allowing her some distance still.

"And now you have us; trust me, you'll rue the day you were born when you're in one of our jokes."

He smiled slightly then, his teeth perfect. She liked this one; he was more formal, not as open as the other one, but then, he wasn't as…happy…as the other one, it seemed.

"What're your names, again? I don't know how to speak Elvish."

"Well," said the Elf, "My name is Elladan, and that," he indicated, "Is my brother Elrohir; we're twins, you see."

Smiling slightly, she answered, "Of course! The only way for two people to be as opposite as you two are would be if you were twins…or an old, married couple. And, seeing as how you're identical, I'm going to go with twins."

Elladan grinned slightly at her.

"We'll have you speaking Sindarin before you know it, never fear."

She smiled again. Not a shy quirk or a mere lifting of her lips; this was her smile-of-a-thousand-suns, the one that had won Elrond's heart. Just as it took the heart of his eldest son.

* * *

Legolas was angry as he paced the room. His footsteps quick and light, he growled under his breath as he thought. Seven days! Seven days since he had arrived, and he still had not seen her. Since she had awoken, Lord Elrond had had to take his meals with her, leaving the twins, his friends, and himself to dine together in the Hall. Oh, Valar, what a nightmare that had been. He liked the twins, truly, but their sense of humor was so…childish. 

Forcing himself to remain still, he cast one more contemptuous glance at the door of the woman's chamber, then stormed out of the foyer to find his friends.

* * *

"A week, Isénduil; a week! Seven days we have been here, and still neither hide nor tail of the woman. How am I supposed to question her if Elrond does not allow me to see her?" 

Sighing, he collapsed on the ground, his hands pressed to his eyes. His friend sat down beside him, suppressing a laugh at his friend's impatience.

"_Tári_, you were never patient. Your father has given you leave from your Mirkwood duties; why not enjoy yourself?"

Legolas replied stiffly:

"I have my responsibilities to my home. I cannot justify shirking them when they are needed."

"Oh, leave it alone, Legolas. You cannot see her until the Lord feels she is fit for your questioning," said Haldith, coming from behind them and sitting down:

"You are giving yourself frown lines. Quite unattractive."

Legolas frowned at her, she smirked. He realized what he was doing, and scowled at her even more. Haldith burst out laughing, and even Isénduil cracked a smile. The Prince scowled a few moments longer, then gave in to their mirth.

The three friends sat on the hill overlooking the Bruinen, their laughter fading though their smiles were bright.

"You are right, my friends. It has been so long since I had time away from my duties, and even then, I joined the Fellowship and fought in the War of the Ring."

"Not much time for relaxation, I imagine," sympathized Haldith.

He looked at her with new eyes.

"You have changed, Haldith. Not that I miss your…thoughtfulness, but how is it that you are so gay and free?"

She looked down, a slight blush heightening the color of her cheeks.

"Well, you helped me lay aside my grief for Haldir."

She glanced up at him.

"You know that of all my brothers, I was closest to him. He taught me when our father could not, and our mother passed to the Halls of Mandos. His death…broke my heart. My brother had meant so much to me; more than a lover or a friend ever could. And then he was gone."

They were silent, the trees swaying in a gentle breeze. With a sigh, Legolas leaned against the trunk behind him, and allowed the sunlight to warm him. He closed his eyes, at peace with his surroundings, the low talk of his friends buzzing in his ears. Breathing in the heavy scent of the sun rays, he dozed, sleeping lightly, his breath even and calm.

* * *

Elrond was very pleased, overall, with the twins' visit. He couldn't help the slight grin that pulled at his lips as he looked down at his daughter, wearing a light shirt over her bandages. 

"What do you think of them, Elenia?"

She sat upright on her pillows, and smiled back cautiously at him.

"I think Elladan likes me better than Elrohir."

"Well, you did scratch him."

"Yes," she grinned mischievously, "At least I'll be able to tell them apart. The one who likes me smiles, and the other one scowls."

He laughed, leaning forward to take her hand. She gave it to him without hesitation.

"_Iellen_," he said, his eyes more serious, "Will you take dinner with us?"

She tilted her head, questioning.

"Not here; out in the dining room. There are other guests here, the ones who brought you. I believe they would wish to see you as well."

Lowering her head, she wrapped her arms around her, and thought deeply. She raised her head to him, and said carefully:

"If they're the ones who brought me to you, or you to me, whatever it is, then I should thank them. And, if-if you are there, as well as Elladan, even Elrohir, then, then I think I could do that over dinner."

His eyes grew kind, and held a glint of…pride? He was proud of her? She felt warm inside, her heart lifted by his pleasure in her decision.

"There is something else, _pen-dithen_. It would not be appropriate for you to appear wearing only your current trousers and shirt. Would it be…acceptable if I were to send a maid to you later, with a suitable dress?"

She wrinkled her nose in his direction, quite adorably in his opinion.

"As long as it's nothing pink or turquoise, I'll wear it. For you."

He smiled, hugged her softly, gentle of her dressings. Walking to the door, he turned around suddenly.

"I will send Sílanor to you; she is very kind and has- so Arwen told me- a sweet sense of humor."

"Thank you, _Ada_. I'll make you proud, I promise."

He looked at her, tenderness in his smile.

"You already do, _pen-dithen. Echadel faeren veren, iellen._"

* * *

A.N.: 

_Tari_ means "high, lofty"

_Elenia _ means "star of the void"

_Sílanor_ means "sunshine"

Translation:

_Aduial vaer, iynnen. El câr man_ Good evening, my sons. How are you?

_Mae, Ada, suil istal_ Well, Father, as you no doubt guess

_E man sad_ Where is she?

_Suilon le, Elenia. Im mûlel, muinthêlen_ I greet you, Elenia. I am your servant, my sister. (Formal form)

_Gil síla or i lû o govadedem, pen-velui. Im Elrohir, iôn o Elrond: Maethor vereg o Imladris_ A star shines on the hour our meeting, lovely one. I am Elrohir, son of Elrond: Mighty Warrior of Imladris.

_Daro!_ Halt! (or Stop!)

_Iellen_ My daughter

_Pen-dithen_ Little one

_Echadel faeren veren, iellen_ You make my spirit joyous, my daughter

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_/Everything is so beautiful here,/_ she thought, _/I've never seen such pretty carvings or furniture. Not even in Ethan Allan catalogues./_

Her door opened, and a pretty elf-girl stepped into her room. She was smiling, her eyes a sparkling blue, and her dark brown hair was braided back, showing off the points of her ears. Smiling broadly at the girl in the bed, the maid dumped the pile of clothes she carried at her feet. The human jumped slightly at the _thump_ on her legs.

"Good evening, _hirilen_. I am Sílanor; Lord Elrond asked me to help you with a dress for dinner. What colors suit you best? Blue? Green? Purple…lavender…white…red? No, not red, for you have red hair. That would not do at all, you know; your hair and outfit should not quarrel with each other, but flatter each other. Hmmm, I believe a dark green would suit your eyes. Oh you have such lovely eyes…may I comb your hair?"

Effectively confusing the girl past nervousness, Sílanor helped her from the bed, being gentle around her belly, and tsking at her apparel.

"_Hirilen_, you mustn't wear men's clothing to dinner. At least, if you wish to wear trousers, you must wear women's trousers. They are so much more comfortable. Ah, this is a shirt of Lord Elrond himself!"

She slipped the shirt from the girl's shoulders, laying it lightly on a chair, and cast a critical eye upon its patterns.

"I never thought he preferred designs to Nature's creations, but, oh well, what am I to do? Here we are, _hirilen_,"

Chattering to the silent girl, she helped her into the undergarments, noticing how she ran her fingers over the fine cloth.

"It's like silk," the human whispered, surprised. Sílanor smiled at her: no wonder her Lord had adopted this child, she brought out the most protective feelings in an Elf.

Speaking softly to her, she tossed the dress over the girl's shoulders, stepping in front of her to straighten the fabric, and bending down on her knees to flick the skirt to its appropriate place. Standing up, she appraised the girl in front of her.

"You will make him proud, _hirilen_."

"What is '_hirilen_', ma'am?" asked the girl in a quiet voice, her eyes on the dress.

Sílanor put a finger to her chin and tilted it upward.

"My name is Sílanor, not 'ma'am'. And '_hirilen_' is 'my lady'."

"I'm not a lady."

"Yes, you are," said Sílanor firmly, "You are Lord Elrond's daughter, and a lady."

The girl took her head from her grasp, then looked at her eyes.

"I'm-I was called Briana, but, I think _Ada_ named me Elenia. If I call you Sílanor, can you call me Elenia?"

Sílanor saw the girl's lip tremble.

"Of course I will; now, time for your hair. Sit."

Elenia seated her self on a chair, and allowed her new friend to toss her hair over its back. Remaining still, she listened to Sílanor hum a tune, pleasant to the ear, as she worked at her hair.

"I've never seen such a color, Lady Elenia. It appears like fire made gentle; do you object to its being kept loose?"

She shook her head.

"Ah, well, may I braid it back as well? It will bring attention to your eyes, they are so exquisite."

"No one's ever told me that before," said Elenia quietly.

"No one?" asked Sílanor, disbelief evident in her voice as she brushed her hair.

"Only my mother and sister; they're dead now."

"Ah."

Silence fell as the two females relaxed in each other's company. Finally, after a time, Sílanor was finished, and led her charge to a mirror. The human stared at herself, unbelieving at what her eyes told her.

Her dress was a dark green, made of velvet and laced with gold embroidery. Along the edges were golden leaves and vines, it was cinched at the waist with a sash of the same green velvet, tying in the back. Long flowing sleeves encased her arms and the neckline was square. She had never worn such a pretty dress; it reminded her somewhat of the pictures of gowns the Renaissance women had worn, though she doubted they had been as comfortable.

Raising shaking fingers to her head, she allowed them to skim down the length of her hair, taking in its soft, loose curls, noticing how its color was deepened by that of her dress.

"I-I look pretty. Oh, thank you Sílanor!"

She turned around and hugged her friend fiercely, ignoring the pain from her wound.

"Thank you," she whispered ardently.

Sílanor returned her embrace.

"Of course, Elenia. Now," she pulled from the hug and eyed her critically, "I daresay you look as beautiful as Lady Arwen when she wore that dress."

Wiping tears from her eyes, Elenia ask:

"Who's Arwen?"

"Oh, she's Lord Elrond's other daughter. She married little Estel, King Aragorn, you know, and lives in Minas Tirith as his Queen. She is the most beautiful Elf I have ever seen, by the stars."

"Does-Does _Ada_ have any other children?" asked the girl hesitantly.

"Well, as far as I know, his only Elven children are the Lords Elladan and Elrohir, and the Lady Arwen, by their mother, his wife, Lady Celebrían. It was a sad day when she sailed from the Havens; my Lord was devastated by her loss."

Elenia was quiet for a moment, then asked:

"And his human children?"

"Well," said the maid, laying aside the brush in her hand, "There are those who are adopted to the House, and then there are those who are adopted into the Family. I believe Lord Aragorn was adopted into the House, not the family, for, of course, Family is not allowed to marry each other.

"And then there was another Man who was adopted in to the Family, like you. I think his name is Galadhen; he's a Ranger, as well. I believe he lives in Gondor with Aragorn, an advisor of some sort to him or the Steward Faramir."

"Am I supposed to replace his daughter?"

Sílanor looked at the turmoil in the girl's eyes, and laid her hands on her shoulders.

"No, Lady Elenia, you are to be yourself. There is none who could replace the Lady Arwen; you have your own place in my Lord's heart."

Elenia sighed, then glanced up at Sílanor's reflection.

"I think I'm ready, Sílanor."

The maid nodded, and took her arm. Together they left the room, the Elf whispering helpful directions to and from the dining room. Elenia clutched her arm tightly, desperate to hold on to something, listening intently to her friend's voice. At last, however, they reached the doors to the Hall.

"Here is where I am to leave to, Elenia. Do not be afraid, my Lord will not allow you to come to harm. I will see you again after dinner, perhaps later, before you go to bed. Calm your flutterings, my friend, I promise nothing terrible will happen to you."

Elenia nodded again to her, which she took as her cue to leave. Watching her friend turn the corner, the human girl turned once more to the doors, and placed a trembling hand on the handle. Squaring her shoulders, she breathed deeply, and softly opened the door.

* * *

A.N.: 

Translation:

_Hirilen_ My lady

_Sílanor_ means "sun shine"

_Galadhen_ means "Tree-eye"

Sources: Navaer Lalaith, and DragonFlame


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Candlelight flickered softly, dancing gently across the room as he watched her enter hesitantly. She quickly shut the door behind her, her eyes on the floor. He watched as his human daughter looked around the room, her eyes darting to each person's face, until they lit on him. He smiled reassuringly to her, willing her to be unafraid.

As his daughter walked to him, he heard a collective breath from his guests, as well as his sons: the girl wore one of Arwen's dresses, a green one that fitted her flawlessly. He smiled as he thought of the other dresses Elenia would have; the smile turned inward as he looked at his daughter's appearance objectively. She was beautiful, with her braided hair like fire and dark eyes. He wondered if her hair was something common among humans.

* * *

He had smiled to her, his gaze soft and comforting. She had noticed the other Elves as soon as she has come in; how could she not? They were as fair as her family was dark; quite the contrast between them. She had never seen so many beautiful people in her entire life, let alone in one room. 

Taking shy, quick steps, Elenia walked to Elrond's side. Taking her hands in his own, Elrond whispered in her ear:

"You look beautiful, my child; Sílanor chose well."

Smiling nervously, she allowed him to brush her hands with his lips, then turn her toward his sons.

"Come, _iynnen_, and greet your sister."

Gracefully the dark-haired Elves bowed to her. At the last second, Elladan looked up at her, his eyebrow arched and a small smile playing upon his lips.

"Have you recovered enough from our last meeting, _pen-velui_? Will you behave?"

An adorable flush covered her face as she said quickly:

"Yes, of course," she turned to Elrohir, saying in a low voice, "I really am sorry; you startled me, that's all."

The frown on his face slipped slightly at her apology. Bowing stiffly to her, he answered:

"As long as I am still able to draw a bow, sister, you have my forgiveness."

Elladan elbowed him in the ribs, then spoke in an overly loud voice in Elenia's ear, taking her hand in his:

"Yes, as long as he is still able to match against the beautiful Haldith!"

Chuckling at Elrohir's furious expression, Elrond spoke to his younger son:

"_Iônnen_, call to Luinmir for food and wine."

_

* * *

/What on earth do they put in this stuff?/_ she wondered, reaching for another roll, _/I guess hunger seasons everything./_

Ignoring the tight band around her heart, Elenia filled her plate twice with food, to the amusement of her family and the guests. She listened quietly to their talk, in Elvish and English.

Panic seized her as she realized she didn't even know what language she was speaking. After all, they could hardly call it English if there wasn't an England or US of A.

"Elladan," she whispered to her left, leaning in close to speak quietly, "What language are you speaking? The one I can understand?"

He looked puzzled, then answered with a slight shrug of the shoulders, "The Common Tongue, sister: Westron. Why do you ask?"

She shook her head, a curl tumbling over her shoulder as she replied:

"Just curious, that's all. Don't mind me."

With that, she resumed eating, leaving Elladan with a confused expression in his eyes, both at her sudden request, and the beauty of that soft curl.

* * *

Conversation was stilted, but as the night progressed, and the wine passed, with Elenia declining each round as she stood with her father, talk flowed easily amongst the blond Elves and the twins. Her stomach took to dancing whenever one her father's guests turned their eyes to her, then just as quickly changed direction, as if they were sizing her up. Unconsciously, she squared her shoulders and set her jaw. 

To the amusement of the only other female and the approval of the males, a determined spark of fire made her eyes glitter in the candle light, their color deepening to an exquisite emerald.

"_Ada_, would you escort me to your guests?" she asked, placing her arm on his.

He nodded to her with approval, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm as he led over to the group of young Elves. He spoke in a quiet voice:

"You realize, _pen-dithen_, you were already introduced to them before dinner."

Embarrassment flushing her cheeks, she giggled nervously.

"Of course, _Ada_, it's just that I was so nervous I forgot their names."

Elrond chuckled.

"Were, _pen-dithen_? How do I know you will not forget their names a second time?" he teased her gently, enjoying her presence.

"_Ada_!" she hissed desperately, "Just do it, please?"

"Very well, _iellen_," he answered in a low voice, then continued in his normal tone, "Lady Haldith, my daughter would have your company on the balcony. She has many questions concerning the Golden Wood."

The lady in question broke from laughing with her blond companions and Elenia's brothers, arched a delicate eyebrow, and said:

"As you wish, my Lord."

Elenia watched, with a little bit of envy, as the female Elf rose gracefully from her cross-legged position and walked to them.

"The one in blue is Prince Legolas of Mirkwood Forest," he whispered to her, "And the one beside him in green is his friend, young Isénduil."

Elenia nodded, taking note of the two handsome Elves, even as she kept her eyes fixed on the female coming toward them.

* * *

Sensing the human's distress and determination, Haldith paused in front of her, extending an elegant arm in a gesture of courtesy: 

"Will you accept my company, _hirilen_, as poor as it may be?"

Elenia looked at the perfectly formed hand, then at its owner. She felt the band around her chest slacken just the smallest fraction as she realized she was being gently teased. A smile formed on her lips as she grasped the hand and said:

"If my brothers' laughter is anything to go by, your adventures are quite amusing therefore worth enduring your poor company."

Haldith laughed, nearly doubling over Elenia's hand, wiping tears from her eyes as she led her to the balcony.

The younger Elves looked on in confusion at Haldith's outburst, having paid their attention to Isénduil's story. Elrond merely shook his head and sat in his chair, watching over his sons and their friends, keeping an eye on the south terrace.

* * *

"You look well, _hirilen_. The air of Rivendell has brought life to your eyes," remarked Haldith, perfectly serious as she walked with Elenia. 

The human girl looked at her, a mixture of surprise, relief, and confusion in her eyes.

"You know me? Where I was found?"

"Yes, _hirilen_."

Haldith looked on, amused, as the girl grew irritated at her choice of words.

"Please don't call me that," said Elenia, brushing back a strand of hair from her face, "I'm not a lady: I never was, and I never will be. My name is Br-Elenia."

"Of course, Lady Elenia; as you say."

The human made a small noise in the back of her throat, turning her body from the night sky to glare at Haldith. Opening her mouth to retort, Elenia snapped it shut as she looked carefully at the Elf.

"You're mocking me."

It was not a question, her voice neutral and her eyes bewildered.

"Nay, lady," laughed Haldith, resting her arms upon the railing, "Merely teasing you."

She watched, amusement sparkling in her eyes, as the girl grew even more confused. Just as suddenly, the girl's face flushed horribly, cheeks stained red, and her voice grew tight with emotion:

"I don't like being made fun of. Don't do it again. Please."

Surprised, the Elf looked closer at the human girl, using the skill taught to her by her brother. Delving beneath the girl's embarrassment, she saw a tightly restrained anger; having seen such buried resentment before, she wondered what had hurt this child so terribly. In a calm voice, Haldith replied:

"I refer to you as lady as a mark of respect to Lord Elrond. I do not understand the reason for your anger."

Elenia shook her head, as if to rid herself of dark thoughts, and looked again at the beautiful Elf before her.

"I..I think I should go inside. It's a little cold out here, and it's making me irritable."

_/Why does she hide the truth of her feelings?/_ wondered Haldith, watching the pretty human girl walk away from the balcony, then observed carefully _/Her memories bring such trouble to her eyes/_

The girl halted suddenly at the terrace door, turning around and asking quietly:

"Are you coming?"

"Yes, in a while; I would like to see the stars before my rest."

"All right," murmured the girl, turning her eyes again to the door, and left Haldith standing alone at the railing, wondering _/Are all humans so at odds with their emotions?/_

* * *

He had seen her return alone from the terrace, and had wondered where the Lórien Elf was; it did not sit well in his heart that she returned unaccompanied: she had so obviously been determined to become acquainted with Haldith. Turning back to the fire, he marveled at the similarities between the flames and Elenia's hair; Legolas laughed suddenly at a tale Elrohir spoke of, and Isénduil mentioned wryly of a time when an elleth had once desired to "fletch the arrows" of both himself and his brother Thraldor at the same time, speaking of the benefits she had learned while staying with the brothers of Imladris. 

Turning his mind from the Elves gathered by the fire, he wrapped himself in solitude, his thoughts quiet and long.

* * *

Another had seen her return from the balcony, as well as noting her crimson cheeks and hurried footsteps. He waited as she walked to his side and knelt beside his chair, her lips placing a kiss on his hand before her head rested upon it. Bringing his own head to her level, he asked quietly: 

"Are you well, _pen-dithen_? Why is it you return alone?"

His daughter sighed, her breath blowing warm upon his skin, and answered:

"It was cold outside; I wanted to come in and get warm. Actually," she said, raising her head and lowering her voice, careful to keep her eyes downcast, "I'm a little tired and should probably get some sleep."

_/What troubles you now, iell o guren?/_ he thought, but answered, "If you wish it, my child; would it be reasonable to expect you at breakfast tomorrow?"

"I-I'm an early riser. Usually at the crack of dawn, as a matter of fact; I'll just get directions to the kitchen from Sílanor."

Raising an eyebrow, he merely nodded in response. As she stood, however, she bent down again, leaning in close to his ear, whispering:

"Will you come later?"

Her eyes held a silent plea, unconscious he knew it to be, and firmly thought their expression was her best feature. He nodded, and, giving him a breathy smile, she skirted quickly past the great oak door.

"_Ada_?"

He turned at the sound of his son's voice, and was surprised to see the worry apparent in Elladan's somber eyes.

"_Man gen presta iôn nîn?"_

"_Preston am muinthel. Se maer?"_

"She spoke of feeling fatigued and desired to go to her room to rest; what of you, Elladan?"

His son shook his head, braids rustling among the dark strands of his hair.

"_Im maer, Ada._ Do not worry yourself with me, I am merely concerned, that is all; she is my sister, I would not wish her to be uncomfortable in her home."

His father nodded, and Elladan turned to take his seat once more by the fire, only to discover that Haldith had tiptoed passed him while he faced away from her, to his chair, and was now lounging quite elegantly in it, telling a tale that had Isénduil and Elrohir laughing boisterously.

Smiling to himself at his son's expression, Elrond sipped from his glass of wine, and rose to meet his promised appointment.

* * *

Soundlessly, the Lord of Rivendell glided through his house, passing the beautiful views from open windows without a glance. Reaching the door of his newest daughter's room, he listened for a sign of Elenia's state of mind, and, hearing no sounds of weeping or distressed cries, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Expecting to see her in bed and sound asleep, he did not anticipate seeing her pacing the length of her room, her bare feet making no sound on the ground. She had not heard his quiet entry, and as such he found himself a rare opportunity to study her objectively.

She had changed from her green evening dress to a light blue night dress, its color making her hair all the more startling, and seeming to soften her light skin. She did not have the beauty of the Elves, but he believed for a human, she was quite pretty in her own right; Elvish clothing, however, brought her best features to light, as that evening's dress had already done.

He loved this daughter; though he did not know why the Valar had graced him with her trust, he knew it for the gift it was. When she finally turned in his direction, she jumped, having not noticed him, and winced as vibrations ricocheted along her body, tingling her painful nerves around her wounds.

He came toward her, taking her hands in his and sitting her down upon the bed. Gently pulling up her gown, he clinically looked at her bandages, detaching the fact that she was a desirable woman from his mind. Satisfied with his assessment, he replaced her dress, and sat down beside her. She blew a strand of hair from her face, her foot tapping a fast beat, until finally she yanked the strand of hair behind her ear and stood up, ignoring the pain stabbing at her gut from the sudden movement.

She began to pace, her bare feet making light, smacking sounds against the stone as she spoke:

"_Ada_, I'm so confused. I'm comfortable with you, Elladan and Elrohir, and Sílanor, of all people, but not around the others. Haldith, I think that's her name," she took a breath and forcibly sat beside him, "I just don't get her. I don't understand her, like I'm sure everyone else does, and when she tried to joke with me, like Elladan did, I nearly lost it with her. I'm so mixed up, I don't know which way's up or down."

With a sigh, Elrond put an arm around her and she, in turn, laid her head on his shoulder; together they sat in silence, Elrond thinking what to say, and Elenia drinking in the calmness of her _Ada_'s presence. Whenever she was with him, her troubles would go away, with only her and Elrond remaining.

His words carrying on the breeze brushing past the trees outside, at last, he spoke:

"You have given me your trust, as well as to Elladan and Elrohir. That is why your anger came when Haldith teased you, yet did not with Elladan," he said, his voice quiet and gentle, "I believe you acted so strongly to Haldith because no matter that **I** trust them: you do not."

She sighed again, shifting her hair across her back, and asked:

"How do you always seem to know the right thing to say? Exactly when to say it?"

He smiled and chuckled slightly, his eyes glinting:

"It is because I have lived so long, _pen-dithen_; is it not said in the world of Men that the wise speak only of what they know?"

She snorted into his shoulder at this, and turned her gaze to his; her mocking eyes matched his own calm grey as she spoke, her voice derisive in a way he didn't quite comprehend:

"The men in my world think only to act on what they don't know, and ask questions later. They're philosophers and war-mongers, neither thinking of the consequences of their actions nor caring for the lives of others. I don't care what kind of mask they put on: deep down inside, men are weak."

His expression was thoughtful, and an ironic smile quirked at the corners of his mouth: it was not so long ago that he himself had spoken those same words, and later proven wrong.

* * *

A.N.: 

Quote: "The wise speak only of what they know" is NOT mine; this pearl of wisdom belongs entirely to JRR Tolkien, a man whose words I live by.

NOTE: The ideas expressed by Briana/Elenia are not meant to offend anybody: honestly, considering the life she's shown me, do you seriously believe she'd have a good opinion of Men?

A.N. II:

Translation:

_Iynnen_ my sons

_Pen-velui_ lovely one

_Iônnen_ my son

_Luinmir_ meaning "blue jewel"

_Pen-dithen_ little one

_Iellen_ my daughter

_Hirilen_ my lady

_Ada_ Father

_Pen-dithen_ Little one

_Iell o guren_ Daughter of my heart

_Man gen presta iôn nîn?_ What troubles you, my son?

_Preston am muinthel: se maer?_ I am concerned for my sister: does she fare well?

_Im maer, Ada_ I am well, Father


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The soft wind moved through the House, casting its slight fragrance through the open windows. In the room of a Mirkwood Prince, the wind seemed to sigh with him as he looked again at the events of the evening.

Before the stranger had entered the room, he and his friends had stood apart from the Rivendell Elves, speaking in low voices over the past week they had shared.

"It is well for her that she has awoken, but it is sad that we should be leaving so soon from Lord Elrond's home," Isénduil sighed, his eyes mournfully taking in his surroundings, as if to burn them into memory, "It has brought light to my heart to be away from Lasgalen, though I love the trees of the Forest dearly."

Haldith swatted his arm, causing him to look at her with surprise and annoyance.

"What was that for?" he asked, rubbing his arm to be rid of the sting of her slap.

"_Pen alag!_ You mourn the loss of Rivendell's beauty, yet you are still here! Wind pours from your mouth if you would grieve for what you still have."

His friend had rubbed his arm again, saying, "I was merely having fun, Haldith. By the stars, did your brother teach you to hit like that?"

"Of course," replied Haldith, her smile devious, "You know that Orophin is one of the best in hand-to-hand. Where else would I learn my skill?"

As Isénduil continued to grumble, Haldith turned her bright eyes to him, and he had found himself holding his hands in front of him in protection.

"_Bau, Haldith!_ I have no need for a reprimand."

She laughed and had tucked her arm in his, leaning in to ask softly:

"How long do you plan on remaining here, now that she is conscious?"

His eyes immediately grew serious.

"A week, at the most I should think," he had responded, thinking hard and shaking his head slightly, "Lord Elrond has spoken to me before that she must be questioned here. Now that she is a daughter of his House my questions will be asked with her father in the room, making it more difficult."

"How so?" she had asked, head tilted at an angle.

Before speaking his ready answer, he had thought on it, then replied honestly:

"Truly, there would be no difference if Lord Elrond was with her or not; it is merely my wish being altered that has me irritated."

"That is the Legolas I know," his friend had answered, seeming pleased with herself. All at once, her head turned sharply toward the door of the Hall, her eyes narrowed as she stared hard at the wood.

"She is here, waiting outside the door."

Startled, he swiftly turned his gaze the door, and noticed a slight shaking of the door handle. He had nodded to himself and disengaged his arm from Haldith, the two of them taking hasty steps to be beside their host.

As the door opened silently, he scrutinized the human's form critically, listening to the collective gasp his friends made at the girl's attire. Her hair truly was red then, beneath the blood and grime. He remembered that even though the Healers in his father's home had cleaned her, the state of her hair had been unimportant once they found it to be uninjured.

The color of fire, he didn't remember seeing anyone with hair quite like it, though Gimli's had been the coarse color of red earth. While her hair was a peculiar color, he did not dwell on it as he took in the remainder of her attire: the gown fitting her was certainly not her own, most likely a dress left behind by Lady Arwen, though it fit her well enough. Her eyes had shown to be a pretty shade of green, evoking a memory of the summer leaves in Mirkwood.

He suspected she would be pretty enough for a human, but did not find her appearance very striking, her prettiness outmatched by that of Haldith's Elven beauty. She appeared very shy and timid, though he did not think her to be weak; Lord Elrond would not adopt one who was unworthy of his House.

Flanked by her adopted brothers, he had watched has she was led to his childhood friend, who had bowed graciously to her, his hand taking hers to kiss in respect, saying:

"_Rhau lîn vain palan-híla, hirilen_. I am Isénduil of Eryn Lasgalen; it is a pleasure meeting you at last."

He watched as she had bitten her lip when Isénduil had touched her, her eyes troubled slightly though she smiled shyly. His host had turned her to greet his other companion, and he looked on as she seemed to relax slightly at the sight of Haldith's form, enough to have Haldith kiss her cheeks, though it was plain she was merely allowing her to do it.

"_Im múl gîn, __pen-velui,_" his friend had smiled brightly at her, her crystal eyes sparkling with kindness and compassion, "I am called Haldith of the Galadhrim."

At last she was turned to him, the one who had found her lying in her own blood on the floor of the Forest. Her anxiety clouded her eyes, though he did not think she knew who he was.

Taking her hand in his own, he had greeted her, saying:

_"Le na vellyn, firiel: I am Legolas of the Woodland Realm, and am honored to know your presence."_

"Hello," the girl had said, looking up at him through nervous eyes, yet careful to keep his gaze from her own.

As he brought her hand to his lips, he had noticed she seemed to shake faintly at his touch. Pressing his lips to her skin, he had allowed his warm breath to linger over its softness before raising his eyes to hers and saying:

"_Sa gell nîn suilon, Elenia iell o Elrond."_

His voice had been gentle and direct, knowing it was what Lord Elrond would have wanted; she was certainly a mystery to his experience of mortals. As he shifted now in his bed, the quiet night wind rustling through his room, he pondered when the right time to question her would be.

* * *

A.N.: 

Translation:

_Pen alag_ Impetuous one

_Bau_ No

_Rhau lîn vain palan-híla, hirilen_ Your beauty shines far, my lady

_Im múl gîn__, pen-velui _I am your servant, lovely one

_Le na vellyn, firiel _You are among friends, mortal maiden

_Sa gell nîn suilon, Elenia iell o Elrond_ It is my pleasure to greet you, Elenia daughter of Elrond


	11. Chapter 11

Meeting at the Bridge

After Elrond left, checking her bandages one last time, she lay awake in her bed, her eyes drifting to the sky visible from her open window. A slight shiver ran through her, goose bumps pebbling her skin; a light breeze drifted in, carrying a warm scent that found its way to her heart.

_Bria,_ came the gentle whisper, soft and near impossible to hear, _Bria._

As if she were dreaming, her trembling hands lifted the blankets from her body, and she placed her feet upon the floor, shivering at the biting cold of the stones. With the heat of her body rushing to warm the stone floor, she walked toward the open window, heedless of the now-distant cold, her bare feet making light padding sounds. As if in a trance, she looked outside, ignoring the breathless sky and starlit beauty of Rivendell.

There, across the garden, a figure ran amongst the flowers, a little body of color in between the darkened sky and pale moon light. A tug in her heart sent her feet moving without thought as she felt herself drawn to that little body; at the bright laugh that echoed through the trees and flowers, she found herself pushing open the terrace doors leading from her room, her heart pounding and blood singing.

* * *

Legolas was restless, and finally sat up, his temper on edge for some reason, and was in no mood for sleep. Feeling uneasy, as if he was waiting for something, he began to pace the length of his room, his booted heels nearly soundless against the stone floor. Exasperated, he threw up his hands, and stalked to a window, his fierce gaze at the stars. His nervousness melting away, the uneasiness remained despite the pleasure he normally found in his solitude. 

Sighing softly, Legolas watched the lights of Elbereth dance above him, and felt as if they were smiling.

A light flicker of color caught his eye, and as he turned his head, he saw a pale blue body disappear among the trees. Intrigued, he left his place at the balustrade and went out into the garden, the fragrance of the night-blooming flowers in the air. His steps quick and silent, he hurried to draw closer to the pale figure, catching sight now and then of a flicker of pale blue.

_

* * *

Bria,_ came the whisper, carried softly on the wind, _Bria._

Drawn as if by siren's song, it wasn't fear that held her heart so tightly, but anticipation; unable to look away from the bright being that laughed and played as a child, she barely recognized the grass beneath her feet instead of the stone or hardened earth of the paths. Deeper and deeper into the gardens she was led, passing under trees and around bushes, till she came at last to a bridge by a waterfall.

_/Beautiful,/_ she thought distantly in her mind _/Just like in fairy tales./_

The little being no longer ran ahead of her, and was quietly standing on the bridge. Still as if in a dream, her feet made no sound as she walked toward the glowing little body. Suddenly, as if struck, she gripped her heart and gasped. She **knew** that laugh, that haphazard run, the way the little body stood so somber at the bridge.

"Meredith," she whispered, hardly daring to breathe.

The little being of color turned, and she nearly wept with happiness; it **was** Meredith, her sister's red-gold hair shining brighter than her own and her pale skin made white by the moon. With a strangled laugh, she ran toward the bridge, bending to scoop the little body up into her arms and planting kisses all over her face. The child threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly, but making no sound as her older sister whispered how much she loved her.

Swinging her around, the pair collapsed breathless to the floor of the wooden bridge. Leaning against the wall, she held her sister tightly, afraid to let her go. Resting her chin upon Meredith's head, she closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks to whatever god had given her back her life.

* * *

At the times he was able to catch a glimpse of the pale blue figure through the trees, Legolas wondered for perhaps the thousandth time, _/Who in their right mind would be outside at this time of night?/_ Finally, he was able to discern where the figure might've been going, and struck out in that direction. Soon, he heard the unmistakable sound of water falling against rocks, and hurried his steps. 

Bursting out through the trees, his eyes were immediately caught by the pale blue figure at the bridge, paling in comparison to the bright body of light being held in their arms. Silently, and as discreetly as possible, he moved slowly backward into the forest once more, to hide his presence, and made his way without a sound as close to the pair as possible.

Catching sight of the red hair flowing past the figure's shoulders, he knew at once this was Elenia, the human daughter of Elrond. Taking a step forward to reveal himself, to question her presence on the bridge, he found that something had rooted his feet to the ground; startled, he tried to move his arm and grew alarmed when he could do nothing.

* * *

Oblivious to the golden mist encircling Meredith, she caressed her little sister's face, remembering every birthmark, every scar, its very softness. Tears falling silently, she could do nothing but hold her little one tightly. 

"I thought I lost you, Meredith," she whispered, crushing the little body to her chest, "I saw you die, oh God, I thought I lost you!"

The little arms wrapped around her tightened, then fell and the glowing body stood away, and she looked up, confusion and pain in her eyes.

"Meredith?" she whispered.

The child held out a glowing hand, and as she took it, a rush of warmth heated her blood, causing her to shiver in the wind. Raising herself to her knees, they looked at each other eye to eye. At last, she asked:

"Who am I, Meredith?"

Placing a gentle hand upon her cheek, a sweet, heartrending smile lit upon the little girl's lips; bending closer, her warm, colorful lips lightly kissed her sister's brow, her little breath soft and comforting. Leaning into her little sister's body, her heart loosened slightly as she breathed in the warm mist surrounding Meredith.

Gazing at the solemn dark eyes, she was overcome with memory once again as she remembered those same eyes shining with tears as well as laughter. The wind picked up, and she heard a voice say:

_Elenia Star-void. Elenia Star-void. Elenia Star-void. Elenia Star-void. Elenia Star-void._

Laying her head in her hands, she wept, harsh sobs that racked her weak body, and bitter tears brushed aside by a glowing hand. Raising her red-rimmed eyes to her sister's face, she realized the voice was coming from Meredith. Glowing brighter by the second, she saw her sister's lips move, and the wind-voice spoke again:

_Briana Morgan is no more; in her place has come another. Elenia Star-void is born._

Slowly, the glow around Meredith began to diminish, and the little girl began to fade into the wind. Startled, she reached for Meredith, only to touch at smoke; crying aloud, she scrambled to her feet and stumbled through the fading wind, running lightly toward the dying wind that danced toward the dark tree line.

Rushing into the trees, calling Meredith's name, she didn't notice the second body until she collided with its solid form, crashing to the ground with the other in a pile of tangled limbs and clothing. A low groan sounded, frightening all thoughts of her sister from her mind, and she desperately tried to stand, wrenching her body free. Panting, licking sweat from her lips, she tried to run, but found her dress caught between the other person's legs. Frightened and confused, she did the only thing she could think of: swearing horribly.

"I can assure you, Lady, I have done no such thing with my mother or any being of another species," came the irritated reply, as well as the sounds of someone struggling to stand.

Recognizing the blond Elf's voice, she murmured a small squeak of surprise and tugged her dress harder, causing it to rip as she raced away through the trees to the safety of the house. Alone, Legolas stood, picking the leaves and briars from his tunic.

_/Well, that was certainly…interesting./_ he thought.

* * *


End file.
